Frigid
by Ly
Summary: Seeking an easy death, the terminally ill Icejin Frigid sets he path for Earth, intending to confront the Saiyajin that killed her brother and father. 13 of 17 chapters posted thus far. Feedback is appreciated.
1. Frigid

"We all want to be happy, and we're all going to die.. You might say those are the only two unchangeable true facts that apply to every human being on this planet." - William Boyd  
  
Frigid  
  
There has never been any question as to my insignificance. I am insignificant, and I am weak, and it has always been this way. I am also ill, but this is no longer matters.  
  
I have no multiple forms. What you see is all that I am; slim and thin boned, my tapered tail fully twice the length of my body. My pale skin is highlighted by a crown of luminous purple, and there are patches of the same color on my shoulders, ankles and chest. I have no great power; if I rallied myself I suppose I could destroy a small planet, and certainly I am better than millions of lesser species, but compared to what my family was this is worthlessness.  
  
The boy ruled, because Papa loved him best and because his power was endless, and he was as mad and as foolish as Kold. I tried only to stay out of their way and not offend them in any of the little ways that would certainly mean death; Mama's long dead because Furiza lost patience with her. He terrified me more than any other -- I was glad when Furiza died. I thought it laughable that it had been at the end of a Saiyajin's blade. Koola I was never made to be so close to, but certainly he was of no great loss; I felt no need to morn any of them.  
  
All the others of my race were worthless in my eyes, but Frost was something I needed, and I do not feel I am being deluded when I say he loved me. His blood wasn't so high as mine, but even for his family he was scandalously weak, yet this weakness seemed to endow him with a sense of calm that I was glad to feed off of; fully aware of his helplessness, instead of bemoaning it he took it as a source of personal strength, and accepting that nearly all those that surround him could kill him if so were their wills, and wouldn't give a second thought to it or suffer a shred of guilt afterwards, he moved on the flow of the emotions of others, anticipating the actions and thoughts and needs of his betters and lessers equally, as one may predict the tides, and having always looked death in the face, was never effected by fear and rarely by anger. That fact that he lived as long as he did is a surprise in it of itself; once he told me that his parents kept him alive because they loved him, but I barely believed it.  
  
In nearly all things he was Balance, and this is what an Icejin aristocrat requires to remain sane. Yet to see, or even be aware of the existence of suffering hurt him very deeply, though he was more apt to turn pain inward, and to this day I find this both confusing and frustrating. It was his complete harmlessness that made me so willing to trust in him, and to wish to lessen the burden of guilt he took upon himself for all our race, and so it's a matter of personal pride that under my rule, with him at my ear, the hand of the Empire has been softer than my own. Of course it is an Empire, and the Planet Trade continues, for how else would one fund it, and though I've seen to it that these things are carried out very neatly and business like, with the least amount of discomfort to those races being purged. This was never enough for Frost -- he wouldn't feel right until all hurting everywhere had ended -- and every year he talked me back a little more, contracting the Empire. I could never tell him no, for he knew jut were my limits laid, and I was glad for every unlighted planet and savage race that survived, because he was glad.  
  
If not for my own worthlessness I'd never have been allowed or willing to associate with him, and even still, for Frost's safety and my own I let nothing serious to bloom until all were certain of that Kold was good and forever and completely dead. With powerful Icejin these things can be hard to judge; one might be blown to a hundred pieces and still live for days or months or years. When the body isn't president one can never be certain, and so we did not trust the initial reports that Kold and his favorite son had been killed on a backwards little rock, by none other than the Super Saiyajin.  
  
There was no such ambiguousness with Frost; I was not president at the exact moment of his passing, but I saw him on his death bed not an hour before, and had watch for months as he was consumed by the same illness that now eats away at me, paining my chest and locking off my throat. He clung to life up to the end, and would here of nothing otherwise, but I don't wish to suffer the way he did, nor to wait for death; I'm a coward and terrified and I can't stand to think on it. It's hard for Icejin to die; I can't imagine a way I could do it myself without great suffering and likely failure, and regardless, I lack the courage.  
  
But recently the answer came to me; Three of the most powerful being to ever live, fit to subjugate the entire universe, have all found their deaths at the feet of a Saiyajin, one of those vile, stupid creatures. I think I can swallow my pride and bare that, if it means an easy death.  
  
So I'll go to Earth, where I'll die, if only I don't lose my nerve between now and then.  
  
Uragiru and Aiken are asleep in their quarters, or perhaps they are awake and only laying still. I told them they must rest tonight, but some orders are impossible to follow, I'm sure. Aiken is mine, and she is Inujin and so loyal, and so upon my passing her nature compels her to die regardless. Uragiru was Frost's servant before I'd ever met him, and I never associated with her before he died, but when offered a position else where within the Empire she asked to say with Aiken and myself. The truth of it is she reminds me too strongly of Frost, and I don't really like having her around. They both followed me here without complaint, though of course it was no choice of theirs. I suppose he'll kill them too, but then again maybe he won't. I can't understand the methods behind this Super Saiyajin's actions. I'll not lower myself to entertaining the notion that Kold, Furiza and Koola all lost because of some freak accident. This Saiyajin has incomprehensible power. It is of course possible that by now he's dead himself, or weakened from age. We'll see.  
  
The ship will reach Earth in only a few hours, but I won't sleep tonight. I'm quite terrified, but it isn't really that; it's only that my lungs hurt a bit, and when I curl up to sleep it's as though I can't breathe.  
  
Most times any cough, any small sound of pain will bring Aiken running, the dumb, loyal child. The fool loves me and I don't understand why. Sometimes, when I'm frightened, I like to have her near by, but I won't have any of it tonight.  
  
She should be allowed to rest on her last night so she'll be at her in the morrow, and I don't need her tonight because I'm not at all nervous away. I'm calm and satisfied with my decision.  
  
Not in the slightest bit scared.  
  
I reached for the com and summon Aiken, struggling to keep my voice even. 


	2. Aiken

"An ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness." - Elbert Hubbard  
  
Aiken  
  
My Mistress sleeps on her throne, head resting in crossed arms, shinny purple nails digging into the flesh of her wrists. She sleeps troubled and she sleeps scared, but she does sleep.  
  
And you know how come?  
  
It's how come because I'm here, and it's okay, and nothing that can be fought's never ever going to hurt her so long as I can fight.  
  
She stirs, her head rolling to her shoulder, and I stare, my ears held down, hoping hard she wouldn't wake up so soon, and she keeps sleeping. I'm balled up on the floor, my legs pulled up to my chest and my tail over my nose, one hand touching the base of my Mistress's throne.  
  
Most of the other Inujin are dead, because we were stupid and worthless, but the Lady Frigid hid a few away when Furiza got tired of us and killed the rest -- I think Mama said that was Frost idea in the first place, but he's gone now.  
  
The Lady Frigid's my Mistress, but they both kept me safe, and that's been right since I was a pup. She gived me a blaster for my arm, and metal claws to tip my fingers and cover my own that can cut through anything -- super plastic armor, bodies, you name it -- like it ain't nothing at all. He always had a pat and good food cooking.  
  
So I'm going to die before anything touches her -- I won't even give that Saiyajin a chance.  
  
I didn't hear Uragiru coming until the door hissed open, which means I was being very bad in not paying enough attention. It caught me by surprise, so I wanted to growl, but it died in my throat and ran down to my belly when I thought of what the Lady Frigid would think if she heard me. My Mistress says I must act civilized and respectable at all times or she shalln't keep me. That's what she says. If she heard me do that she'd be angry.  
  
I stood, waving to Uragiru silently. She tried to talk, and I held a claw to my muzzle, watching my Mistress out of the corner of my eye, scared she'll get woke up. She needs to sleep more. And eat. She never eats enough.  
  
I walk outside the room, slipping through the automatic double doors, while waving for Uragiru to follow. I can tell she don't like it, but I don't care; I won't have my Mistress bothered.  
  
Then when we're in the hall, just like she's teasing me, Uragiru says "We approach Earth. Wake Lady Frigid."  
  
"Now? She hasn't hardly slept at all!" Uragiru makes me nervous -- she never smells right -- but my mistress trust her, I think. The Lady Frigid cannot be wrong.  
  
"She'll be angry with you if you don't wake her with time enough to get ready, you know," she says. She's thin and blue skinned and small but stronger than me anyway. I hate her.  
  
"She will?" I looked at the closed doors nervously. I don't want her mad at me. "But what does she have to get ready for, so soon?"  
  
She smiles. Fake smile. I hate fake liar smiles. Thinks she's smarter than me. "Just to die. The Super Saiyajin's going to kill her."  
  
I listen close for sounds behind the doors, hoping the Lady Frigid was awake and had heard. But my Mistress is never around when Uragiru says things like that, and she's not now.  
  
"Lady Frigid's going to kill that Saiyajin," I said. "She told me that's why she's going." My shoulders bristle under the pads of my armor and I hold my tail high and stiff. Challenge. Just you tried to say otherwise.  
  
"Hope springs eternal," she said. Then when I bared my teeth because I didn't get it but thought it might be an insult to my Mistress, she added "Whatever you said, Aiken-chan."  
  
"What I say -- damn straight. She'll kill him, or I will if she likes."  
  
Uragiru shook her head softly, her short blue hair waving. "Wake her." And she turned her back to me, heading down the hallway.  
  
Uragiru's okay most of the time, but sometimes I want to jump on her shoulders and rip her throat out with my good teeth. But that would make my Mistress so angry, I don't even know.  
  
She's lying anyway -- No one's going to kill my Mistress. But just to make sure, I'm going to kill that Saiyajin before he can ever ever ever get near my Mistress. She'll see.  
  
And I know how to know what he looks like too. Because I know that they have tails, and not pretty shaggy ones like mine -- just short, dark furred, worthless little things. I'll just kill the one with the tail, and there won't be no trouble.  
  
Tail hanging low, I went back into the Lady Frigid's throne room.  
  
My feet are nearly as good in fighting as my hands, and I like being able to use them. But my mistress says it wouldn't look good for me to go around barefooted all the time, so I'm wearing boots. They press against my claws bad, and make them sore, but it's okay. I move across the carpets toward my mistress, the boot's soles leaving prints in the purple shag that puffed back up and disappeared again.  
  
I couldn't hurt her if I tried -- and I never never would -- but I slipped my metal claw tips off just the same as I stopped in front of her. I reached out, intending to touch her shoulder, then freeze. I smell blood, and see it, on the edge of my Mistress's lip, a thin line running down her chin. More on a silk hanky, wrinkled and balled up on the arm of her throne.  
  
I'm scared.  
  
I'm scared to touch her now, so instead I said, "Lady Frigid?" softly. That should have woke her up -- it's never taken much, but she now don't move at all. I repeated her name more loudly, afraid my voice is shaking, and add, "We're almost there, I think..."  
  
My Mistress doesn't wake slowly. One second her head is leaning to the side against her shoulder, the next she has straightened, looking at me, her eyes open, awake and clear. She stood, one quick and flowing movement. "Are we?" she said. "All right then," and she headed toward the doors.  
  
"Lady Frigid," I began, then got nervous when she turned to stare at me. "You've got a little... On your chin..."  
  
"Oh." She rubbed the dried blood away with the side of her hand. "Better?" I nodded, but couldn't ask why the blood was there or where it had come from.  
  
My Mistress started out again and I follow her. 


	3. Frigid

"Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying." - Jean Cocteau  
  
Frigid  
  
I have no particular argument with the people of this planet, no purpose or need for them or anything that is theirs, so I saw to it that my ship was taken down at a place that seems least troublesome for all parties involved. Aiken could almost doubtlessly have coped with any type of force the humans could muster, but who needs the hassle that say, destroying their greatest city might bring about? Of course, if it's necessary to draw the Super Saiyajin out... But I think he'll come to me without prompting.  
  
Vast dry wilderness, nothing but dead, sand covered plains and crags topped with withered grasses surround the ship. Ugly planet, really. So drab.  
  
Lizards crawl among the broken stone and crumbling earth. Distant cousins, perhaps. "Aiken," I said, watching life, such as it is for these creatures, go on outside my ship on the view screen. "Bring me one of those." And I point to the lizard I want carefully, a pale skinned one, large but not unwieldy, knowing she'll retrieve just that one.  
  
Aiken's wound up -- expecting a fight. She fairly sprung toward the hatch with a glad shout of "Yes, Lady Frigid!" and was outside within the second.  
  
One wonders if the silly fool has an idea of what's to happen and what it will mean to her. It's unheard of for an Inujin to live on after her master's death, and I'm dead, regardless of what happens with the Saiyajin. It's true I told her we come only to fight the Super Saiyajin, but still, she shouldn't be so cheerful.  
  
I watch Aiken through the cameras as she moves toward the lizard, stalking with skill and instinct superior to any animal's. Grinning, the tip of her tongue hanging over her lips, ears bent forward, and tail wagging fiercely as she climbs over the rock toward her quarry. She darts forward, her alloy tipped claws gleaming, but I didn't see the pounce.  
  
I was nearly doubled over, back to the screen, my hand clutching the side of my throne, trying very hard to breath and suddenly completely unable to do so. After nearly a minute, whatever was holding my air back gave over, and I let out a ripping string of coughs. Taste of blood in my mouth. So undignified.  
  
I've seen this before; it's as common as anything among the Icejin can be. It killed Frost and it's killed others. A few days, a month at the most, and my lungs will seize up and never let go, and that'll be the end of it. Incurable, for all the Empire's resources.  
  
It takes us far too long to die. Cut off any other poor creature's air and he's dead in minutes. We can go on for hours and days and days, sometimes. But how it hurts.  
  
I wish to have composed myself before Aiken returns, but glancing at the view screen, which operates on a slight delay, I see her stand, the lizard clutched in her hand, her claws buried in its flesh, and looks toward the ship, her ears perked. Fear crosses her face and she bolts toward the hatch.  
  
I straightened and spat into the waste can. Blood. She heard me before and now she'll scent this.  
  
I turn to face Aiken as the hatch hisses open. She holds the lizard in her furry hand, forgotten, its tail dragging on the ground. "Give it over," I say to her, before she can question me. She hands it to me eagerly, hoping for praise, and more importantly, conformation that I am all right.  
  
I took it, oblivious to the lizard's blood, hoping it will cover the scent of my own, though I know it won't. It's my fault for frightening Aiken the way I did, but I had hoped for a live one. Dead things are so dull.  
  
I turn the lizard over, studying the deep tears in its flesh as well as the animal itself. "Could have gone a bit easier on it, don't you think?" I asked, without looking up at her.  
  
"Sorry sorry!" Aiken said miserably, seeming to grow smaller, her tail dropping to the ground.  
  
I didn't respond. The lizard's body is cold and heavy, its skin dry and scaly, not smooth like mine. Worthless, primitive creature, and it had looked so graceful on the rock. There's a few apparent similarities between myself and it, but nothing remarkable. Really, I'd gotten nothing more than a faint inkling of kinship, which now seems to have been totally faulted.  
  
Still, it's an interesting mystery, that a creature from such a distant corner of the universe could bare even a passing resemblance to myself, or that we could even breath the same air. But more than that, look at the Saiyajin! One could place them anywhere, provided them with anything that even remotely resembled food, and they thrived. Nasty beast -- no sense of grace at all -- but they had their value. The reports on this little backwoods are sketchy, but it's said that humans are identical to Saiyajin in all ways save they are tailess and have rather pathetic combat levels.  
  
What are the odds of such a terrific coincidence? One almost suspects laziness on the part of the Gods...  
  
Aiken's ears perk up, her head jerking toward the wall, focusing on something outside it. I looked to the view screen, but saw nothing of interest. "I hear them coming," she whispered, her fur beginning to stand on end and eyes widening, the pupils dilated. "So fast. Far too, too fast. Too too fast, so fast," and so on until she was babbling.  
  
"Be quiet!" I snapped, because I can't let her get out of control, and her words broke down into faint whimpering. She's terrified, which is enough to frighten me. Inujin ought to fear their master and nothing else, and Aiken has always been a very good Inujin.  
  
Them, I think. A band of humans? An army? But such a thing would never scare Aiken. The Super Saiyajin then -- but more than one... not possible.  
  
It's not that dying part so much -- that was predetermined, one way or the other, and my intention, and Inujin never survive the death of their master. But I don't want a group of Saiyajin to get a hold of her or me. One Saiyajin by itself isn't so bad -- an hour or so with his victim and he losses interest; Vastly preferable to the way I'm going now. But a group of Saiyajin don't fight, and they don't kill; they play, and they endeavor to one up each other, and often stretch the game out to the point that it might be days before they're finally done, if there's nothing better for them to do. Even Aiken is never so vicious. I've heard of Saiyajin to which Furiza's cruelty paled in comparison.  
  
I don't even know where Uragiru is.  
  
But I must stay calm, and keep my face blank so Aiken can't see any fear. This is better than dying in bed, whatever happens it's better. And it's better than Aiken pining away until she starves or takes her own life.  
  
No matter what, I'll keep everything in battle cold and organized and distant, as it ought to be, and I'll reveal no motive. Just stay calm and don't go soft, and Aiken will be bold to the last, and it will be a good enough way to die.  
  
I intend to die well. 


	4. Juunangou

Juunanagou  
  
The space vessel, assuming that's what it is, came down only a few thousand kilometers from my home. I've never let /my/ guard down, so I felt the strangers long before the martyrs did, and so approached the ship while Son and his lackeys were just beginning to move toward it in ones and twos.  
  
I haven't been seen by any of that group since my sister decided the midget was better company than myself, and I don't intend to come out of hiding until they're dead. For all intents and purposes she and I are immortal, and I have all the time in the world to wait them out. Then there'll be no one on Earth who's stronger than me, besides Juuhachigou, and then we'll see what'll happen. Maybe I'll have a little fun.  
  
Until then, I'm just going to chill. I've been staying in the wilderness, far from most humans and the annoyances they cause. Not even Son can sense a Jinzoningen, and if I don't want to be found I won't be.  
  
But one needs a bit of entertainment now and then, and this might be fun. More impotently is the simple fact that I've yet to hear of someone visiting Earth with pleasant intentions, and they tend to be rather strong, you see. The thing is to make sure they aren't a threat to me or what's mine.  
  
There's three of them in the ship; the strongest's combat level is about half a million, and the other two are a good bit below that. I'm no longer worried; more amused than anything else, really. Reading ki mechanically, checking for and receiving a simple number is easy -- it's part of what I was built to do. But sensing it spiritually is another thing altogether, and as far as I know I've never had any schooling on the subject; just what I've picked up from the martyrs. Still, it seems to me, if I'm reading it right, that the stronger one's sick as hell.  
  
One of the aliens is standing in front of the ship, keeping guard, I suppose; she looks nervous. I land behind an outcropping of rock -- checking out hiding places -- and though she was looking right at me as I went down, she gave no sigh of having seen me. It makes me feel confident to know I'm so far above this chick that she can't even see me move, not that I need a boast; I know what I am, and how much better that what is, compared anything else.  
  
The rocks are set up perfectly; I could watch the whole show here from nearly any angle and never be seen. Satisfied, I started out, my hands balled in the pockets of my jeans, the wind blowing through my dark hair and ruffling my bandanna. I look damn good. I look fucking great.  
  
Once I moved out from behind the stones, the alien noticed me, and raised her arm, pointing what I suppose is some type of gun at my chest. I'm not worried about being hurt by that little thing, but if the she wrecks my clothes I might just get angry. I continued moving forward nonchalantly, pausing to study a remarkably boring rock. The alien now looks puzzle rather than aggressive, which is what I was hoping for. She lowers her arm a bit, studying me. This is too damn easy.  
  
She's all big muscle; no sense of taste or symmetry in her build at all; absolutely hideous. Tall and thick, thinner around the waist and wider at the hips, covered in a coat of short, brindle fur, marbled black and brown, darker and shaggier at the top of her head and down her tail. Her face juts out in such a way at the jaw that it's nearly a muzzle, and two long canine teeth peek out from under the edge of her lip, while her ears, large and erect, set near the top of her head, surrounded by tuffs of fur. She's like a big, bipedal pit bull.  
  
" 'Lo," I said, and taking my hands from my pockets, bowed, briefly and with flourish.  
  
She consulted her scouter, pushing a button on its side then looking at the little screen cross-eyed to read it. If I had a zeni for every time some idiot came here trusting his scouter and died because of it. Then she looked back at me, smirking with all her carnivorous teeth bared. "You're worthless -- don't even /have/ a reading. I don't think my mistress wants me to bother with the vermin, but if you don't get out of here you're going to be in trouble."  
  
"Maybe I like trouble," I said. "But share: what kind of trouble?"  
  
She held up her hand, its fingers tipped by long metallic claws. "This kind," she said.  
  
So, not only is she ugly, she's dumb as a fucking rock. I returned her smirk, and said evenly, "Fair enough. But first, do tell me; are you here to fight the Saiyajin?" If she says no I'll kill them all now -- I'm more than strong enough -- and be done and gone before the martyrs know what happened or even that I was here. I'll put up with Son and his lackeys because I have to, but I don't want to deal with another band of ki manipulators that might come under Son's wing and protection, and cause me trouble later because of it, even if they are weak by my standards. If, on the other hand, she says yes, she wants to fight Son or Vegeta, then I'll just sit back and watch the show. It ought to be fun.  
  
"We're here to kill the super Saiyajin," she says with absolute confidence; it's going to sweet when she learns the facts of the matter. She's nervous, but not because of me. Her eyes keep darting from my face to the horizon, in the direction from which the martyrs are closing in quickly.  
  
"Well," I said, " Have fun," and turned my back to her, starting off in the opposite direction from my hiding place. She was a bit too lost to consider following me, and after I've left her line of vision I leapt, unseen, to the small mount of stones.  
  
I make myself comfortable, settling in among the rock, and set back to wait for the show. I can see them in my mind's eye, specks of light that intersect upon one another a little over a hundred kilometers from here. The specks -- twelve of them -- pause briefly, conversing, then started forward again, and then they were here, landing in tandem just paces away from me.  
  
The Scholar, his teacher's uniform discarded for a clone of his father's gi, hair cropped back and gelled into place; his essentially human daughter and scold of a wife, who can barely command enough ki to keep herself air borne; the Grease Ball, who might have been as great as his father, but lacking the opportunity and ambition is languishing away, wishing for something bigger and not knowing what -- the only one of the whole group I don't hate on general principle; the miserable Executive, his fake glasses put away in their case, purple hair parted; the lonely Namekjin; the Triclops, the Tinny Clown and Bandit; that damn Midget. My sister. And of course the Saiyajin, Son standing in the forefront, Vegeta not so much behind as distant and apart.  
  
The martyrs and the strange alien stare at each other, uncertain of what to do, whether there was to be a fight or not and who was to start it; etiquette of that sort. The humans stand clumped loosely together, nervous because they know how these things always end up, but brought there by some dim, misplaced sense of duty or pride. You'll never catch /me/ sticking my neck out for the chopping block like that, I tell you.  
  
Finally Son asked the obvious question; "What do you want here?"  
  
The alien cocked her head to the side, one eye squinting, the other wide open, bushy eyebrow raised, one ear laid flat and the other held erect, looking at him like he was exspeically stupid. She didn't bother to reply, but began to go over each one with her scouter, her face showing a steady gain in disgust. "Worthless, all of you. Get! My mistress doesn't want to be bothered by any of you humans; only the Super Saiyajin." They're suppressing of course; none showing a level of more than a thousand. It's really quite simple.  
  
None of them quite know what to say to that; it's been a number of years since anything like this has happened, you see, and they're a bit out of practice. Son and Vegeta look no worse for the time that's past; Saiyajin seem to be slow agers, but I have a feeling once they pass their natural prime they're going to drop like flies. You can see it better in the others, many of whom are much older than Son anyway; wrinkles around the Triclops eyes, gray streaks in the bandit's hair, a growing bald stop on the midget's forehead and so on.  
  
Finally, Vegeta stepped forward, his arms crossed against his chest, trying to look like some big badass. See, that's his trouble; he always has to make himself look like a tough guy, when really there's nothing more intimating to a big enemy than to be hit, out of the blue, by a small, suave cool looking guy. But getting back to it; Vegeta said, "Don't waste my time, Inujin. You idiots can do nothing without the word of your master. Tell the coward to show himself!"  
  
The humans and all of the half breeds saves Trunks look to Vegeta like this is all his fault, and most likely it is. Honestly, I don't even know why Son bothers. If I wanted to keep my planet safe I wouldn't harbor intergalactical genocidists.  
  
The alien -- an Inujin, I assume -- pulls her face up, bearing her teeth angrily, the skin wrinkling around her nose, brows piled forward and ears laid back against her skull. "The lady Frigid isn't subject to the whims of vermin," she said, in a memorized spiel. And I bet you anything you like she doesn't understand a third of that.  
  
Vegeta's face twist up in an ugly smirk, easily rivaling her own. "/Frigid/? The Icejin Frigid?" He chuckled, soft and mean; a good chuckle, actually. Well timed. "I know that name. The soft hearted weakling is the shame of the whole Kold Empire. You must joke."  
  
The Inujin's became absolutely vicious; the rest of her lip pulling back, showing her long teeth in their entirety and the pale purple gum they were set in. She lunged forward, and Vegeta shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms and forming a fist at his side. He'll knock her ugly head off, no sweat.  
  
The hatch of the space vessel hissed open, its paneled ramp extending to the ground. A voice cam from the interior, feminine and well cultured yet slightly rasping -- almost pained. The sick one, trying to hide it; who's she think she's kidding? "Aiken!" the voice commanded, and the Inujin froze in her tracks instantly, only a few meters from Vegeta. It would've been simple as anything for him to step forward and kill her then anyway, but instead he stood, that scowl that could mean anything at all on his lips. The Inujin backed off slowly, her eyes still set on him, fangs still bared, until her shoulders touched the back of the ship.  
  
Mean while, the other two aliens walked down the ramp in a solicit, set pace. The first one's not very remarkable; fine frame with small with hard muscling, nice build, no taller than myself. Her lips are thin and mean -- lips like that, you can tell she's a schemer and a bitch -- and eyes big and almond shaped and green. The alien's skin is pale blue and powdery looking, and her hair turquoise and cropped short to her ears, from one of which a long ear ring hangs, but baring that she looks mostly human.  
  
Now the other one -- she's a great deal more interesting. She's tinny and under weight besides -- couldn't weight more than ninety pounds. The Inujin has no sense of dignity, but these two clearly consider a respectable bearing as a matter of personal honor. But unlike the blue one, who holds herself like an unwilling servant, this one has all the haughty, prideful carriage of born royalty.  
  
The alien's skin is a silvery white color, and looks harder and thicker than human flesh, but perfectly smooth and unblemished. Her face is flat, the only raises her small nose and a faint pout in her lower lip, and her chin is short and symmetric. Dark lines trace the path of her jaw, and her eyes are outlined by black like they'd been painted with kohl. Her oval head is crowned by a cap of royal purple, and there's a similar pale pink, hard luminous shell on each of her narrow shoulders, and a darker, diamond shape one in the center of her chest. She's naked, and should seem awkward for it, but she seems a natural nudist, willing and unself-conscious, and she doesn't seem to posses anything that would warrant covering up, anyway. A long, thin tail is wrapped around her ankles. Got to be Frigid.  
  
She paused, studying the group, a thin annoyed frown on her face, and Aiken moved to her side. "Well," she said, "I recognize the Namekjin for what he is, though I had thought they were extinct. And one assumes the rest of you are human?"  
  
"No," Son said, his face grim yet excited in anticipation of the upcoming fight. "They are," and he nodded toward the humans, "But we're Super Saiyajin." Vegeta, Gohan, Goten, and Trunks stepped forward, and Pan nodded, not quite sure what she was or where she belonged; I don't think she's pulled an SSJ yet. I suppose the Scholar thought she'd learn something by being here, but the girl's barely ten, and has no clue as to what she's doing. Parents try to push this kind of shit on their kids, and then people wonder why I killed Gero.  
  
"Nonsense," Frigid said. "You have no tails, and your combat levels are laughable, even by Saiyajin measures. More over, his hair isn't even the right color." She nodded toward Trunks. Vegeta glanced over his shoulder, look at the boy like this is his fault. It's not of course, only rather simple genetics; if the guy wanted a dark haired, Saiyajin looking kid he should have fucked a dark hair chick, but he'd rather be a disapproving ass. Goten snickered, but stopped when Frigid Trunks and Vegeta glared at him in tandem.  
  
"It's funny, is it?" she asked, the corners of her mouth turned down, just slightly. "Well, if you must insist upon lying to me, and won't follow good sense and leave, I guess I'll just have to kill you and worry about the Saiyajin later."  
  
She looked at Videl, guessing correctly that she was Pan's mother. "But really, if I were you I'd send the girl away now, before anything happens to the poor child. These kinds of things aren't for the eyes of children, you know; she sees too much of it, she might grow up to be like me." And the hell of the thing is, she might even be sincere.  
  
"She'll see nothing more than evil being vanquished at its source," Gohan said with complete conviction, the Great Saiya Man reborn. I certainly wouldn't defend anyone, but the smartass mutt knows nothing of her -- never seen the chick before in his life -- and yet she's undoubtedly evil. Doesn't it just make you sick? And mind this comes for the spawn of a Saiyajin, a boy who was raised by the Great Demon Prince himself. It's all one big, fucking joke if you ask me.  
  
"So I'm evil am I?" she said, seemingly more to herself than to the others, and with great contemplation, though if she's anything like the other planet killers I'm sure she's been told as much many times before. "Well, of course I am," she concluded finally. "Just kill them," she said to the Inujin, who'd been growling like a tied dogs the whole time, and now seemed very glad to comply. "That one first," and with a careless yet deliberate gesture flicked her wrist at Yamucha. The human stepped forward willingly enough, looking confident and ready to fight -- these days it's so rare a thing that an enemy one of the humans can handle pops up, yet they have some backward, inert need to be of value -- he's glad for the chance, I think. But Son cut him off, moving toward Frigid until they stood nose to chest, Son looking down and Frigid looking up. Son Goku's big, but by most standards he isn't tall, but she looks absolute minute beside him.  
  
"No," Son said to her. "I'm not playing that game."  
  
"What game?" Frigid asked. "There's twelve of you and only three of us; it only makes sense to fight one on one. Or do you intend to gang up on us? The fact that I could kill you all with one swipe of my wrist aside, that wouldn't be very fair, would it?"  
  
Doesn't she know how to hit them where it hurts! Such skill at judging were his emotions lay! Son doesn't even know what to say to that, and is torn between protecting his little friend and his morals, such as they are. Yamucha cuts in before he can find an answer, and I'll bet she predicted that as well as I did. "It's all right, Goku. I can handle /that/ easy," and he stepped forward, fists balled. I wouldn't be so certain; their combat levels are about matched, but he's out of practice. Son doesn't seem quite comfortable with it, but he nods in assent, and returns to the group of martyrs, all backing off to give the human and Inujin room.  
  
Aiken paused to remove her boots, revealing wide, furry feet ad toes tipped by long claws, then slowly, they began to circle each other. 


	5. Frigid

Frigid  
  
One wants to fit in, with one's family, one's peers; this is true of everyone. And I've tried -- I'll not allow anyone to say I haven't -- but I've yet to see any great entertainment or even diversion in slaughtering those vastly inferior to myself. Now mind I've never been above getting rid of someone who needs gotten rid off, either politically or personally, or do to insult, if need be. It's only that I don't see where the great thrill is. There's so many more constructive ways to spend one's time than torturing lesser species, most of which that don't involve getting dirty. I suppose there's something wrong with me, but I don't really mind.  
  
But really, no one could be expected to take such insults to her intelligence without retribution; Super Saiyajin they say! and not one with a combat level over a thousand. One wonders what got Aiken so riled, though as acute as her senses are it could be nearly anything unusual -- but it certainly wasn't any of this group. Now she needs to wind down, and a quick fight is just the thing. As I said, I don't mind too much when there's a propose behind it, and perhaps if I have one of their number killed the others will take the hint and leave me be.  
  
I found nothing particularly offensive about the human I chose to die, beyond that he looked to be the most miserable of the group. He's tall and tan skinned, his face scarred, with a long mane of black hair, threaded by a very few strands of gray, and well built -- if muscle had anything at all to do with real power he might have been strong. But his barring clearly reveals that his show of confidence is completely false and fragile, that he's a terrifically nervous and miserably lonely person, lacking any sense of initiative or self-esteem. This one's used to losing, at everything he's ever done. Pity, but as good of choice as any of the others.  
  
Now they're circling each other, the human and my Aiken, her hands held level to her chest, fingers spread, moving in a low crouch, and he standing straight with only the slightest slouch in his shoulders, one hand cupped above his head and the other balled at his side.  
  
This went on for sometime, to the point that Aiken began to become bore, her face slacking down. She's a defensive fighter though, and won't charge first. Apparently, the humans also found this dull, because one of them -- I don't care to look to see who -- called out "Come on, Yamucha! You can take her!"  
  
Yamucha, then. Yamucha the fighter. Yamucha the looser. Yamucha is dead; Aiken killed Yamucha.  
  
"My, this is pointless," Uragiru muttered from behind me, blowing a lock of turquoise hair out of her face, and when I looked to her, she refused to make eye contact.  
  
Had we been anywhere else I might have struck her, but that wouldn't have looked good in front of the others; one has to put on a show of civility and unity, vermin though they may be. She's been in the most awful mood these past few months. If time wasn't short anyway I might not put up with it. But when one gets used to having another around, one gets to wanting to keep her alive, even if she is rude and steps out of line now and then.  
  
"Keep your place, Uragiru," I said, without taking my eyes from the two. Something's about to happen.  
  
He's stopped moving in sync with Aiken, and is standing still, his legs spread in a fighting stance, looking rather ridiculous. She stared at him for a moment, ears cocked forward, then pulling her lip up and baring her teeth, she charged. This is something she ought not to do, but he doesn't look overly dangerous, and the scouters conformed that he is not.  
  
Yamucha dodged the first blow, jerking away from her gleaming claws smoothly, and the second and the third and the fourth, moving faster than he ought to be able to, then countered with an elbow in her gut as she leapt in the air, aiming, I'd guess, to disembowel him. He hadn't the time to guard against her feet, and as he came into contact with her stomach she drove her claws through his thigh and down into his knee cap. Aiken was thrown back, snarling and skidding along the ground, landing near my feet. The human stood unsteadily, a grim smile on his face, his gi torn, blood flowing from the rent in his flesh, dripping down his leg. Such an ugly site.  
  
Aiken's in pain, but such things never phase Inujin, and presently she climbed to her feet, ready once again to fight.  
  
The leader of the humans, the short stocky one -- Yamucha called him Goku, I believe -- looks like he wants to step in, but doesn't yet; he'd damn well better not try. We have an agreement, and I don't tolerate liars. Aiken began to circle Yamucha again, and he turned toward her with every step, his face always to hers. He seems extremely skilled for someone of his combat level, and I'm about to take a new reading -- these scouter, they malfunction all the time -- but something's happening...  
  
He's standing, legs bent at the knees and spilt apart, hands held up with his fingers curled inward. A fog of what -- energy? -- is forming around him, growing swirls of color, blocking out all but and forcing everything on himself and the cloud. And his combat level's raised enough to set my scouter off, beeping frantically as the reading bound upward in a manner that should have been completely impossible. Now the energy's taking form, a silhouette of a snarling wolf, eyes blazing red behind him, as fierce faced as Aiken could ever be.  
  
He shouted "Rugafufu-ken!" and leapt forward, legs tucked back in a V and arm pulled back. He hit Aiken square in the jaw with this 'gales of the wolf fang fist,' attack, spraying blood and broken teeth and tearing the skin of his own knuckles. She was ready for it -- or rather for /something/ -- and didn't fall, but her head was jerked back by the blow, so violently I thought her neck might have been broken, but found a second later this was only paranoid. Still, it was a good hit; the last one he got in.  
  
As much as his combat level increased, he's still nothing too great, and I think he's peaked. But if the others can suppress their combat levels as well... it's a terribly dangerous thing, you know; maybe I have the right people after all. And I'd thought such a skill was just old legend.  
  
But by now Aiken's recovered, and is moving in on Yamucha, her eyes glowing. So suddenly that I hardly expected it myself she leapt forward and routed him completely, pushing him back with each blow, each blow connecting, each blow drawing a new flow of blood. He's putting up what should be a valid defense, but that never does a thing against an angry Inujin: He's fighting on well taught structure but she's going by instinct. And finally she grabbed his hair -- fool to wear it so long; maybe he is Saiyajin -- and yanked him around, his back against her chest, head pulled upwards, throat exposed. And now she's going to rip it open and that'll be the end of that, and he's fighting like hell but she wouldn't let go even if she was dead.  
  
Now the next thing is a bit hard to explain, because it makes me angry and because honestly it happened too fast for me to see. But the fact of the mater is, one millionth of a second Goku was standing anxiously on the side lines, and the next Yamucha was free, being drawn back into the fold by the others, and Aiken was on the ground, he converging on her.  
  
I certainly can't put up with that. 


	6. Juunanagou

Juunangou  
  
Big surprise. Yamucha lost; he always does.  
  
So this guy's an international star -- anytime I turn the radio on, all they can talk of are his exploits in the sports world; he has fans, a line of sports wear, his own baseball card. He'd be filthy rich if he knew how to handle his money. Physically, he's in the top 99.99 percentile of humans, even still. But here he is, trying to measure up beside Super Saiyajin, arguably the most powerful beings in the universe, and he's going to ashamed when he can't. Now true that to be Jinzoningen, or even Saiyajin is vastly preferable to human, but we can't all be prefect, and being the best of what he is, however pathetic that best might be, he ought not to give himself so much heart ache over it.  
  
He's bleeding badly -- most likely bad enough to die from it -- but they lug him back into the group, surrounding him protectively, as good friends should, and I suppose he'll be given a sensu, assuming they had the forethought to bring some. Anyway, I couldn't care less what happens to him; the lizard-girl, dog and monkey are so much more interesting. Hell, I should start a circus.  
  
But what a mess! What a fiasco! Yamucha was beaten and as good as dead besides, and Son jumped in, though whether he did so under his own will I doubt, but rather on impulse. I didn't quite see it, but I believe he struck the Inujin just before she ripped Yamucha's throat out, handed him into the arms of the others and whirled back to Aiken, all in less than a blink if an eye. She's on the ground and out cold; with all her fur it's impossible to tell where he hit her, but the standard trick is in the back of the neck. Most people can't understand the level of restraint required to simply manipulate an environment designed for weak beings, let alone the minute degree of concentration and control between knocking her out and taking her head off at the neck. It's next to nothing, the difference.  
  
It's always hard to judge when Son's sense of mercy will strike, but I doubt he would have killed her then, down the way she was. But Frigid doesn't know from Son Goku's habits, so certainly she'd expected him to behave reasonably and kill the Inujin. She moved between he and Aiken, standing over the unconscious Inujin, her tail lashing back and forth slowly, in a calm, calculating manner.  
  
She's agitated, but hides it very well -- don't think Son notices and she ain't going to tell. He stands across from her, hands clutched in fists at his sides, face set hard. Her's are crossed coolly over her chest; she nearly looks bored. What an actress; what an artist!  
  
"My, my," she said, glancing down at Aiken, movements cold and well timed, though it's clear those of us who are paying attention that she's also checking the Inujin's status, how badly she's hurt and so on. Frigid looked to the group, where Yamucha stood, healed but crest fallen, then turned to Son disapprovingly. "You don't follow the rules very well, do you?" she said. Ha! So she can't call them all; Son does nothing /but/. I'm actually rather surprised he stepped in myself. "Well, you seem untrustworthy, but perhaps it's only that you didn't understand..." Low blow! I do like her. "Lets just say that you and I fight, so to prevent confusion, you know, and the winner can deal with the other's followers afterward. Fair enough?"  
  
"You'll lose," Son said. Obviously -- I'm halfway convinced she knows that herself. "I don't really want to fight you, you know, anyway." He shrugged. "You don't have to."  
  
"Yeah," she said. "Let's get started." And with that she handed her scouter to the blue chick, and ascended, high above the rest, not jumping but raising smoothly, and landed on a distant cliff, Son following her. She must expect fireworks, and wants to be a safe distance from the others, Aiken exspeically, but maybe she hasn't fought too much -- at least against people of Son's caliber -- because her back's now facing directly toward the ship, only a wall of rock in-between. Not too smart... 


	7. Frigid

Frigid  
  
It's clear this opponent can suppress his combat level, and so the scouter is worthless against him, but it would be wasteful to leave such a valuable fragile machine in the current line of fire, and so before ascending to the cliffs I hand it to Uragiru.  
  
Obviously, nothing he says is to be trusted; one minute he's the Super Saiyajin, and the next he doesn't want to fight me! As though the Super Saiyajin could do other than fight, and like any Saiyajin wouldn't gladly kill to get his hands on an Icejin, after the unpleasantness between my brother and their race. But regardless of his species, this is clearly a creature of cruelty after Furiza's own soul, a player of the same old games and tricks. I could say I didn't really want to fight, accept a truce and try to walk away, and be struck down the second I thought myself safe, and suffer all the more and look the fool because of it; I know how these things work. I grew up around them. Like it would be so much trouble for the real Super Saiyajin to do away with /me/, anyway. Well, if he can kill me he will; I'll make him.  
  
But listen to me! I can't make up my mind about a thing, can I? One second I want nothing more than to be dead now, done with life and back with Frost -- where ever that may be -- before the illness moves into its more painful stages, the next I want to kill the Super Saiyajin as a matter of pride, the next I want to break down and weep.  
  
One second I know it's in Aiken's best interest that she die now, without the suffering her nature will inflict upon her when I'm gone, that I ought to kill her myself, even. The next I'm moving the battle away from her unconscious form so she's less likely to be injured. But what can one do?  
  
He lands across from me, just as my feet touch the stone. A slight clench of his fists, and an aura of yellow light breaks out around him, bathing his body in energy that looks as though to burn, and lifting his now golden hair toward the sky, like it's supported by an upwards blowing wind.  
  
"Ah, here's the Super Saiyajin," I said, trying to remain unafraid. Nothing, I don't believe, I have ever seen has been so impressive and so abjectly terrifying. "Now I believe you."  
  
"This is just the first one," he said back, calm for all the world. "I can do better."  
  
No, this won't go well and it won't be easy, however it ends up. There's no way out of it now though, and if I was smart I wouldn't want there to be. But what I think and what I do have nothing in common, and as divided as I am inside none of it shows.  
  
There's a thick wall of stone to my back, and the others stand in the distance, looking up at us from my right. Aiken still hasn't stirred, and the little fellow in the gi similar Goku's is approaching her. "Get him away from there," I demanded, because I wouldn't trust this group for a moment.  
  
"Why?" he asked, and I could almost believe he's confused. "Oh," he added abruptly, his voice far too innocent for what I would have expected from the Super Saiyajin. "Kuririn won't hurt her /now/. So don't worry about that; pay attention to me." And he began to charge a ball of energy in his palm, looking rather pleased with himself and the ease with which it formed all the while. "Sure you want to do this?" I raised my chin, and he shrugged. "All right, but I'll send it slow, kay?" Pulling his arm back he tossed the blue ball of fire at me with terrific speed but no great effort. I couldn't guess how powerful it was, and stepped to the side impulsively, allowing it to hit the stone wall.  
  
Even as fast as he is, and as easily he took Aiken down, I had hardly expected that little attack to hold so much power. And fool that I am, I hadn't considered my ship...  
  
The ball burrowed through meters of hard granite, and moved on to the valley where my ship stood, unprotected and undefendable. And when it hit, the ship was, quite simply, vaporized, the hills surrounding it thrown upwards to come raining down into the crater where my home had stood.  
  
My fingers curl inward, purple nails biting at the flesh of my palms as I watch the cloud of ruble descend. "Oops!" I hear him said, "Guess I made it too strong, huh? Sorry..." and I turned toward him, moving very slowly least I lose control of myself, and slapped the bloody idiot across the face. The blow was resounding, like the sudden crack of rock against rock, but his flesh didn't yield, and all I accomplished was making my hand ache.  
  
"Mock /me/! You think it's a joke?" I said.  
  
He grabbed my wrist, holding it firmly but not so tightly that it hurt. "That's not nice," he said, as though I was a child he could scold.  
  
I shook free, though in all honesty only because he allowed me to do so. "Incompetent!" I shouted in his face. "Oaf! Fool! I said me, not the ship -- the ship was mine!"  
  
Then I feel it coming on, and at such an inconvenient time. It has nothing to do with me being angry -- if it was dictated by mood there wouldn't be any trouble. It's a rare thing for me to become so angry, I'm proud to say, and indeed, it wasn't until Frost died and the illness really began to set in that I became so despicably wishy-washy, and that my fears and moods began to hold such sway over me. The day was I had complete control over myself and my emotions at all times. There's another fear, and another good reason to die now rather than later; if this keeps up, I worry that I may come to be as mad as Furiza.  
  
But it's outside of my control, and my throat's tightening up, locking off the dry desert air. I step away from him, debating if fleeing was an acceptable way to avoid embarrassment and hoping that if I turn my back to him he'll take the opportunity to kill me, and thus dying with as little shame as possible. Instead I hear him moving toward me, feet dragging uncertainly in the gravel. I can feel him peering over my shoulder while I gasp, my arms wrapped around my chest so not to clutch at my throat.  
  
"Is she okay?" the same little one who was bothering over Aiken called up, as though he should be worried too. "Did you hurt her?"  
  
"Uh-uh," Goku said. "I don't think so..." I hate this. Now he's reaching out, touching my shoulder without permission. "Are you okay?" he asked, like it's a simple thing. I don't want his hand on me; it's rough and moist and warm and nothing like good Icejin skin, or even Aiken's fur. I want Frost. What the hell's /wrong/ with these people?  
  
Here's a small thing to be thankful for; it's receding, nearly as quickly as it came on. I'm angry -- and I admit it -- but he shouldn't act like that. I don't expect kindness or mercy, just please, a little tact. And I probably shouldn't have hit him then, but as I said, I become angry when people treat me like that.  
  
With a rejuvenative gasp, I shot my elbow out, catching him good enough to produce a grunt, even as unyielding as his flesh is. He stumbled backward half a step, nearly losing his balance. "Good," I said, as his face hardened. In that instant, it's as though he's a different, meaner person. "There, you see?"  
  
I'm not sure if I was kicked or punched or slapped, it happened so fast; it maybe that he never physically struck me, but whatever the attack, it hurt immensely. I soared backwards, shamming into stone that shattered under the impact. And here he is above me, arms crossed over his chest, completely unfazed. I'm not used to fighting like this. I don't enjoy it, and in all honesty I don't know what I'm doing; I don't think I'm capable of getting up to face another blow like that.  
  
"Well?" he said. "Done yet?"  
  
My tail aches, and I suspect it made be crushed; my back's bruised by the stone and my shoulder bleeds; the pain where he struck me immense and total, permeating my whole body. I've heard people speak of pain like this with great desire, as though it were some form of spiritual or sexual fulfillment, but to me it is only pain. My lungs hurt. I should get up and continue the fight.  
  
I'm tried.  
  
"Are you the one who killed Furiza and Koola and Kold?" I ask, but I won't look him in the eyes when I say this. I couldn't tell you if I really care anymore.  
  
"These things are complicated," he said to me, and it seems to come from far away. I'm watching a small frightened lizard crawl among the scattered stones of its home. "I didn't kill any of them myself completely, but if you need to lay blame I'm the closest thing to it here, though I think it was their own fault. You all make me do these things; I don't know why. It's dumb."  
  
"You miss the point," I said. "But they're dead, and if you had a hand in it be proud; a triumph for the Saiyajin, yes?" He frowns, but I go on; "So kill me now, too; end the line, avenge the Saiyajin and obtain justice for so many races."  
  
"Why should I?" he said, face so confused that I believe I went over his head, but then, he is Saiyajin. "I don't worry about the Saiyajin, and Yamucha's okay. You aren't any fun to fight anyway; no challenge.  
  
"Why don't you just transform?" he said finally, in an offended tone.  
  
Ass. "I'll make it hard on you if you don't," I said, and maybe I mean it and maybe I don't. "You may be untouchable, but how many thousands -- millions -- humans can I kill the minute you turn your back on me? That's what you /do/ worry about, isn't it? The people here. You'd better kill me."  
  
He tightens his fists and steps toward me, and I think maybe I've got my way and he'll do it, but then /she/ got in the way.  
  
"Hey, Goku!" one of the others called up, though with no real urgency, "she's awake!" And then Aiken was between he and myself, crouched near the ground wobbly, shoulders bristling.  
  
"Don't you touch the Lady Frigid," she growled. "Don't you, don't you dare."  
  
"Aiken, stand down!" I said, trying to compose myself. She looked back at me, loathed to take her eyes from the enemy but confused and in need of reassurance. How I wish she hadn't woken. "You're in the way," I tell her. "Move."  
  
She whines and shifts her bare feet nervously, but doesn't leave the defensive position in front of me. "Don't you, don't you," she repeats to Goku, trying to sound mean, but it came out as a lost whimper.  
  
"Do it!" I shouted. I won't say what in front of her. So she can't see and will barely know, I demand, "Her first -- then me; Just do it!"  
  
"Do? What'll he do?" Aiken asks me, and I don't think I've seen her so frightened in all her life. I didn't want things to happen this way. I didn't want her to get scared. "No one's going to hurt my Mistress -- I won't let them!" She looked back to Goku, out of fear he'd moved. Why'd she have to wake up?  
  
"I'll make it hard on you," I said to him again. "I swear I'll make it hard on you." This is desperation.  
  
He glanced at me, then looked to Aiken, her tail held low and ears laid against her skull in anger and fear and helplessness and his whole demeanor seems to transform. As he stepped pasted her she moved to the side willingly, though there was still an air of nervous meanness about her. "Don't now," she said. "Don't, don't now," and he reached out and patted the child on the head, showing no fear of the white flash of teeth. This is where, I think, loyalties began to merge, and normally it would have been completely unacceptable, but given the circumstances it may be a very good thing.  
  
Moving on, he bent over and offered me his hand. No one's done that since Frost died. "You can't be anymore troublesome than most of the others used to be. It's okay. Come on." And what can one do? It would be rude to refuse. But Gods, I'm tried. 


	8. Juunanagou

Juunanagou  
  
Son Goku's an idiot, but everyone knew that already. Not only did he blow up her ship -- as a superior being improved by technology, I have a certain interest and affinity for such an advanced machine and I'm annoyed that it was destroyed before I had a chance to get a closer look -- not only did he blow up the ship, he took its occupants home with him. I don't get it, I just don't fucking get it.  
  
She didn't even beg him not to -- she wanted it! After she sucker punched him even, he offered her his hand! Could he really expect some type of loyalty or thankfulness when he won't even give her what she came for? It must be obvious to him that she's not healthy -- even Son can't be that dense. Dumb people piss me off, but nativity is so much worse.  
  
He turned away from Frigid, who's leaning unsteady against the remaining rubble and the much more severally injured Inujin. Bloody Drama Queen. For a second she looks ready to try him again, while his back's to her, but decides it isn't worth it.  
  
"Hey, guys," he called down to the other martyrs. "Can we get some privacy?" Most of them submitted to this with little objection, but Piccolo and Vegeta raised argument, citing the obvious pros of putting her out of the way and the dangers and stupidity of not doing so. How's it go? 'The saved sinner will not see his past brethren redeemed'? Not that I consider mass killing a sin. Now those outfits on the other hand; turbans and blue spandex. Ick.  
  
"I'm completely indifferent, one way or the other," Frigid said wearily at one point, cutting the Namekjin off mid-sentence. Chick doesn't even know what she wants; I won't associate with that kind of wishy-washy person, and I'll bet you Son's going to have some titanicical mood swings to deal with.  
  
After a few 'Son, you are a fool's and 'Don't be a stupid rat bastard, Kakarotto's, those two got stick of trying, and in a huff left him alone with the foreigners. The blue chick's face is unreadable -- she's very good at hiding her thoughts, I think. Frigid looks more ashamed than anything else, which is a large change from the indifference of only a few moments ago, and very near collapse.  
  
Son hands out sensu like it's candy, and apologies to Frigid for the ship -- he ought to be apologizing to me, I think -- and offers replacement living quarters. Note that he never consulted or even considered the opinions of his wife and boy before doing this. Another good reason to keep my home hidden and private from all others.  
  
They started off, and I dive into the cave of piled stones before they past over my head. Son paused, and I can feel him hanging in the air above me. "Be good, Juunanagou!" he called down cheerfully, before shooting off with the others.  
  
Oh, I hate him! 


	9. Aiken

Aiken  
  
The ship was destroyed, and my bed and blankets and everything familiar and known with it. I've lived on that ship all my seven years, ever since I was a babe, barely weaned. I'm too dumb to remember it, but I'm told that when Frost brought little cub me home -- this was back when they still keeped other servants on board -- that I'd fight and bite and nearly kill anyone who tried to take me away from my Mistress, for who I was born for. This is how she knew I was a very good Inujin.  
  
By now I know I can't be at her side all the time -- there are meetings and appointments where rough me wouldn't be seemly, though far far less than there used to be, and sometimes Frost and my Mistress liked to be alone, though why I couldn't tell you, and sometimes, exspeically now, she just wants to be in private -- I hate this, but I know I have to do it and do it. But right now, as we land beside Goku's home, nothing in the universe could make me leave her for a second. This place is strange...  
  
Green trees, green grass, fresh green, green green green all around, and the little house in the center of it all, sparkling clean and smelling of good, clean things and good food. There's another stranger in there.  
  
I clamp my jaw and follow my Mistress inside as she follows Goku through the doorway. She's breathing harder than she ought to be.  
  
Comfy arm chairs, a low couch and cushions on the floor. Nice place to rest, and my Mistress needs to sleep. The floors hard wood, warm under my feet. I forgot my boots -- I hope she doesn't get mad. But hey, Son slips off his shoes at the door, and Uragiru copies him, and the woman who greets him is barefoot, so maybe I'm not too embarrassing. But still, it's bad of me.  
  
But the woman -- she's smallish, and a bit past her prime, but fierce, her eyes sharp and black-gray hair tied up in a bun and bleached apron swaying heavily under the weights sewn inside it. Don't think I'll be first to make trouble with her, I don't think.  
  
She stands in front of us, white, tough hands on her hips, sharp eyes moving from one of us to the other to the other. "Goten said we might be having guests," she says to Goku. Then glancing back at my Mistress in a way I don't like at all, she says disapprovingly, "Friends of Mr. Piccolo, I would think?"  
  
"Nah," Son says, "Just some foreigners. Is dinner ready?" He looks past her and into the next room with hopeful eyes.  
  
"Be patient," she says, and approaches me, staring me in the face like she's trying to decide some great judgment. She says to Uragiru, like she's in charge and not my Mistress, "I don't allow pets inside the house."  
  
"Pets?" I shouted, "Pet!" and she stepped back, slightly flustered; my teeth'll do that.  
  
"Pets are without worth or use," my Mistress says mildly, "Aiken is no pet." This means I have worth, doesn't it? I'm proud.  
  
"Chichi," Goku insisted. "I'm hungry."  
  
"So am I," I said, then knew I shouldn't have. It's rude, you know.  
  
Frigid glared at me, and I shrink down. "We will be a burdened to you," she says out of politeness and bows deeply.  
  
This, I see, is how to get on the woman Chichi's good side; manners, etiquette, properness. I can never do these things right, so maybe she'll hate me...  
  
"Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes," she says, and turns back to the kitchen. I'm hungry now....  
  
_____________________________  
  
The table's crowded with plates and bowls and cups and palters and people. I'm jammed in next to the boy with my Mistress at my other side, and I sit with my belly far from the table, trying not to crowd her.  
  
The food looks funny -- a lot of puffy white stuff -- and I don't even know what to do with the stick things. Goku and his family picked theirs up, and balancing them between their fingers, began to eat. My Mistress and Uragiru watched them for a brief moment, then picked up their own sticks and with very little trouble started their meals also.  
  
I'm starving, but my hands are big and clumsy and my claws are in the way, and I can't get more than a grain or two of the white stuff to my mouth at once. When I try for a piece of meat it falls, rolling across the table and onto the floor.  
  
Eyeing the others I sit my sticks down and hook a bit of flesh with my claw. Instantly three sets of offended eyes are on me -- my Mistress, Uragiru and Chichi -- and I returned it to the plate shamefully. Stupid me.  
  
"Here," the boy says cheerfully, standing and moving to behind my chair. I don't want the stranger where I can't see him, but he says "see, like this," and guides my one of my hands to lift the bowl half way to my mouth and the other to hold the sticks properly. "Got it?" I grin and show him how I've got it.  
  
"Very good, Aiken," my Mistress says without raising her eyes, string her food around, and I look toward her, happy and eating quick, trying to remember to keep my mouth closed. See? I'm good. I'm very good.  
  
She isn't eating, not really; just moving the food around and around and raising some to her mouth almost never. I sit my empty bowl down. "Aren't you hungry, lady Frigid?" I asked.  
  
"I'm eating," she says, in a tone that says I ought not to argue. But she isn't really, and she never does. "Anyway," my Mistress goes on, "You'd better look after yourself and be careful our honorable host doesn't out eat you," and nods toward Goku, who's packing it in. The way she says this it's clear that I should make sure he doesn't win, in this at least. "No one's capable of eating more than an Inujin," she says to them pleasantly, but as a kind of challenge. I've heard people say Saiyajin take great pride in their stomachs.  
  
"You don't know my dad!" the boy says. He thinks the lady Frigid is just playing. The lady Frigid never plays.  
  
So I pile my plate and bowls with even more food than his, and dig in.  
  
Two servings. Three. Chichi, Uragiru and my Mistress have set their plates aside and are only watching me and Son and the boy go on. Chichi stands every few minutes to retrieve more great planters from the kitchen. Foreign as the food is, its easy to tell Son's woman is a much better cook than Uragiru. Of course she couldn't stand besides Frost, but no one ever could have.  
  
Four. Five. Six. The boy's dropped out, though he still grins, one elbow resting on the table (until Chichi told him to take it off) the other holding his belly like it aches.  
  
Nine. Chichi has retreated into the kitchen to stay, from where the sounds and scents of fresh food cooking can be heard, and only blinks in and out to place a new dish on the table. She might know from Goku, and she might have expected guests, but she never saw me coming.  
  
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen servings. My belly's swelled up and I think I might pop something, but Son's plates are still full and my are empty, waiting for Chichi to bring the next load.  
  
"That's it," she said, stepping into the room and glaring at Goku while she set the last bowl full down. "You two ate it all."  
  
Son groaned and pushed his plate away. "I think I'm full," he said, pulling himself up from the table.  
  
I sighed happy. See? I win. This time I do win.  
  
Yawn big mouth. Sleepy. 


	10. Frigid

Frigid  
  
My Aiken might not be fit to fight the Super Saiyajin, but she's conquered him in a matter that is a source of great pride for both races, and I suppose that has to be good enough. Even better it turned her attention from my plate, and the food I simply didn't have the stomach to eat.  
  
It's not that there's anything wrong with Lady Chichi's cooking, mind you -- I suppose it's quite good -- it's only that I don't feel that I want it. I remember Frost used to cook such good things.  
  
If you feed a Saiyajin all he'll wish to do is fight; get up, get moving, burn away the energy. Inujin sleep.  
  
As I said, I'm tired and after such a meal Aiken can hardly keep her eyes open. It seems that the Super Saiyajin keeps a very humble estate, lacking even in guest quarters, and so we were put up in his living room.  
  
The Lady Frigid, sleeping in the Super Saiyajin's arm chair, her servants reclining on his couch or spiraled out on a spare futon. Heh, I'd give what little's left of my life to see the anger and hurt in Furiza's eyes.  
  
So I slept, Aiken snoring at my feet, and never thought the next day would bring with it the final unpleasantness. I was ill; is it so strange that I was oblivious? So much was going on behind my back, but the only thing I noticed was the oddity and contradiction of Son Goku's remarkable character.  
  
But I get ahead of myself.  
  
I slept that night, and as unbelievable was it was, I slept well. I only awoke when Aiken shook me, long after sun rise.  
  
"It's late," she said apologetically. "Breakfast is ready. You're going to eat, aren't you?"  
  
No, I don't think I'm hungry at all and I don't think I will. But one can't worry her like that; she might doubt me. I noted her bare feet last night, and now I bring them up. "Aiken, where are your boots?"  
  
"Umm... I don't think I know..."  
  
I sit up, sigh. "You didn't leave them outside, did you?" I couldn't guess how to get new ones, and she certainly can't go around like that.  
  
"Umm..." She glanced toward the door, then nodded uncertainly. "Maybe... I think..."  
  
"Well, I think you'd better go find them, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, Lady Frigid!" And bounding for the door, she's gone. Such a good girl, but so nervous. And it's not as though I make a habit of killing disrespectful or inadequate servants.  
  
I see Uragiru's up and gone, but to where I don't know. She really ought to have told me first.  
  
And here's the master of the house, sprawling himself out on the couch like to take a nap. "Trained all night," he says to no one. He yawns, stretches. "Mmm, feels good."  
  
It's too much really, it's too much. "Oh, what the hell's the matter with you?" I say, because it's too ridiculous.  
  
"Huh?" he says, and lifts his head to look at me.  
  
"You're Saiyajin. I know what this should mean; I grew up around you people. Where's your tail? Why do you act this way?"  
  
He turned to his side, head resting in the rivet of his arm. "My tail got cut off; I don't mind. For how I'm acting I don't know what you mean other than I'm acting the way that's right."  
  
"Nonsense," I insist, because there has to be more to it than that. "You're Saiyajin. Why don't you act as such?" I might have managed to offend him, but the answer is of the up most importance.  
  
"You see me fight someone I need to fight," he says. "You see me act Saiyajin.  
  
"And anyway, why should I have to act Saiyajin, people like you coming around and making trouble for us here? They're no good and it's better they're dead." He paused, considering that, and I think it makes him unhappy. "Course, Furiza's dead too." He looks at me with substance. "But not because he killed the Saiyajin," and his head dropped again. "That's not why. Because he hurt my friends, and wouldn't stop when I asked him to, and we'd never done a thing to him before.  
  
"Now when I was a little baby I hit my head and forgot everything Saiyajin. My Grandfather, Son Gohan," he nods toward a picture of the old, human man on the mantel piece, next to a family portrait and some old, round trinket. The man in the picture and Son are in no way related. "Now my grandpa raised me up but right, so I'd be a good just fighter, and Muten Roshi and Kami-sama and my other good friends made sure I knew every other good thing I needed.  
  
"Wasn't the Saiyajin that did that, you know. All they do is show up, knowing nothing, and try to brake down and ruin everything here. My brother comes here, and hurts my friends, and threatens my boy, and wants to say it's nothing and I'm nothing. But where's his family, friends, home? Saiyajin don't have those things, and when they do, they can't ever keep them. And I beat him, Piccolo and me.  
  
"Then comes Vegeta and he sees my friends killed, and hurts more of my friends, and kills a man who has nothing but loyalty in his heart for him -- so much for the Saiyajin -- and he says I'm a low level and no good. But we beat him too, so I must be doing something right. And what did he have, before Earth and Buruma?  
  
"All the fights the Saiyajin get in are worthless and stupid. Why should I act like them? I do okay."  
  
I hadn't thought him capable of such a speech. There's a long pause, and then he says, "So what's wrong with you?"  
  
"And what does that mean?" I asked, defensively, afraid he was prying about my health.  
  
"You're not insane," he says, like he knows anything at all about me. "All the other Icejin were." There isn't any argument there, but it's none the less offensive. "And you're not as mean, either." He shrugged. "Also, you don't fight so good, or get so mad when you lose." Hmm... he thinks I've lost.  
  
He jumped up so swiftly that I gasped and raise my hands to guard my face. But the movement wasn't intended to be aggressive; it seems it's just his normal, relaxed pace, moving so fast I can barley see. He looks at me oddly; what a mouse I am. "I'm gonna eat!" he declares. "Coming?"  
  
"I think I'd rather take a walk instead," I said, and stand as well. My chest is sore.  
  
"Are you going to cause any trouble?" he asked, so sharply and unexpectedly I wince.  
  
"Hmm..." I pretended to consider this heavily. He frowns, an angry spark in his eye that makes me quite nervous, and I hasten to say, "No, I suppose I had better not, should I?" I turned away from him, hands clasped behind my back. "Just a bit of a walk, I suppose," I said, and leave the house.  
  
The man's inexplicable...  
  
_____________________________  
  
Ah, it feels so good!  
  
The lone yellow sun glowing on my back, shadows from overhanging branches playing along my arms, black and white patterns against my skin. My tail brushes the blanket of dead vegetation, while the fresh scent of blooms and chlorophyll and running water permeating the breeze, not sterile and scentless like the filtered air of my poor ship.  
  
Not a sound, but the wind through the leaves and hanging creepers, and the faint movements of the animals through the brush as they passed me fearlessly, traveling toward the water below. Light twittering birds of every color in the spectrum flit from small stone to stone, ducking their heads to drink then jerking them back up, beaks open; a velvet coated deer, her fragile twin fawns trailing behind her, eyes darting about nervously for danger; colorful limbless, bouncy little fellows the size of my fist, hopping about and upon one another in the sun, their round forms all eyes and smile; gray squirrels chatter in the branches above while performing great acrobatics purely for my benefit.  
  
I'm stranded here. There's no getting away.  
  
Well, I'll view it as a holiday and try to enjoy myself.  
  
Right now there's not a sound, save the movements of the wind through the leaves and hanging creepers, and the animals moving through the brush around me, traveling toward the water below, and it feels so good. 


	11. Aiken

Aiken  
  
Stupid stupid stupid me! My boots lost, and she saw -- of course she saw; how could my Mistress not see? -- and I can't remember where I put them.  
  
I flee the house of Son Goku, and finding shelter in a stand of green trees, and crouch beside a dead log, my claws digging into the rotten wood while I tap up and down, up and down. I think for a long time, crouched like that, and after a while it comes to me that they must be back at the battle site, where I think I might have taken them off.  
  
Sure. Sure; that's it! And it's easy for me to find my way back. Inujin can follow any scent of anything anywhere. Over water, land or air, an hour or a month old it ain't no thing. If I close my eyes I can see the scent picture, every place any animal stood and what they did and looked like and where they went.  
  
I just back track, following the scent over the gleaming salt sea and the dull rock mountain ranges, read easy by the few little bits of air that still hold my scent or my Mistress' scent or Uragiru's, though I try not to follow her trail.  
  
It doesn't take very long to cover the maybe thousand kilometers to where I was going.  
  
I landed beside the blackened crater where the ship had been before Son Goku blow it up. There ain't a thing left, and he wasn't even trying. It's scary..  
  
The boots are easy to find, laying on their sides in the grit. I hold them up side down and shake out the sand and put them under my armpit. I should put them on now I should but I think I'd rather just carry them until I get back to Son's home.  
  
I turn to go, but a live scent, one which has hung in the air from the day before, sticks in my nose. Like a leaky battery and fresh green growth mingling faintly with clean sweat and classy perfumed soap. I turned toward it.  
  
The dark little guy reclines on a boulder, half laying, half sitting, one arm draped over his raised knee, the other foot hanging off the edge of the stone, his face a flat frown that means nothing at all. A long barreled old fashion gun of wood and well polished metal rests in the crook of his elbow, muzzle dangling to his knee. His bandanna ruffles in the wind and the gun barrel gleams.  
  
"You again. So you stalking me, now?"  
  
"Hardly," he says. His jaw rest in the palm of his hand, his little finger tapping his cheek bored like. "You're on my turf, darling." He laughs mean. He's making fun of me, but I don't get how.  
  
"You're creepy."  
  
"Ah yes. Thank you kindly," he says, sliding to his butt in one smooth motion, so to now set on the stone with his legs spread, the sides of his heels touching. "Well," he shifts the gun, moving one hand to his out turned knee. "I do aim to please."  
  
  
  
"What's that?" I ask, pointing.  
  
"This?" He held the gun up, turning it slowly in his hands to catch the shin of the sun. "This, darling, is the finest piece of craftsmanship on the planet. Next to me, of course."  
  
"Looks old."  
  
"You're old!" he says in sudden out burst, and laughs again. I don't get the joke. "More over," he becomes very serious "You are a stupid ass."  
  
"Oh, you shouldn't use words like that," I tell him. "My Mistress says it's vile."  
  
"No," he corrects himself. "Not an ass; a dumb sheep. A blind sheep. What are you up to, out here where you don't belong?"  
  
"Forgot my boots," I say, and hold them up.  
  
"Ah," he says, "And how hideous they are."  
  
"My Mistress says they're what's proper for me to wear," I say, on the defense because they are kind of ugly, I think maybe.  
  
"Now there's a topic!" he says, leaning forward and pretending to pretend to be interested. "Frigid, isn't it?"  
  
I nod and correct him. "The Lady Frigid."  
  
"Good enough." The wind picks up suddenly and I squint, the gritty air making my nose itch and drying out my boggers. "What's the matter with her?"  
  
"What's that mean?" I shoot back. Scared. I don't want to talk about it, but begin nervously, "If you mean she's been a bit under the weather, as of late --" he cuts me off; makes me mad.  
  
"No, darling, she's dying. If you don't know why or what from you should just say so." Before I can argue or provide retribution for the insult or question him he goes on. "Don't sweat it, anyway. Son's friends never stay dead long."  
  
Piece of meat dangling in front of my nose. I've gotta jump. "How come? How can they not stay dead?"  
  
"He resurrects them left and right with the dragon balls," the guy says. Don't mean a thing to me, and I want to question him farther, but he goes on. "What about the other one? The pretty little blue bitch?"  
  
"Uragiru?" I make a face. "She's a liar and mean and unhappy and hates my Mistress and my Mistress doesn't even doesn't even see."  
  
"Uragiru?" he repeats. "Hideous name." He leans his head to the side and smiles. It's a fake smile -- fake and sarcastic -- like everything else about him. It don't mean a thing. He jumps to his feet and bows fancy like. Entraining himself, that's what he's been doing all along. "I'll just be going then," he says, and shoves his hands into his pockets and adds, "Follow me and I'll make a point of killing you."  
  
Ha! I could follow him easy, even if he is faster (and he's yet to show he can even fly). I never lose a scent and he'd never know I was there, I bet.  
  
But I've been gone far far too long, and there's a scratchy little nervous feeling in my brain that's just started to work its way to the front. Pulls my heartbeat up and makes me want to growl or whimper at nothing. I'd better go back and make sure my Mistress is okay. 


	12. Frigid

Frigid  
  
I say I'm a fool and so I am, and only an idiot would argue the point. It's self event.  
  
But I had thought I was a better judge of character than to choose my associates and friends so poorly that one I held close would wanted me dead, that I would trust a liar who would lay hands on Frost.  
  
But I get ahead of myself.  
  
The land surrounding the Son estate was glorious, as I have said, and I suppose I over exerted myself. But I hadn't thought...  
  
It came upon me while I was walking up a gentle slope, just a small hill a few kilometers from Son Goku's home, pain that had never before held so tightly or so painfully or so completely. Pain like that, one can tell, will never go away. And though I won't be dead for nearly another two hours, it seems briefly that my soul is already disembodied, looking down at myself with a cold bitter eye:  
  
The Lady Frigid, worthless, ditsy brained, contradictory little idiot she is, grasps her throat. She drops, her pale whither tail flapping like there's anything she can do about it. Her brain, which is just twisted enough to keep herself in eternal torture, but not badly enough to permit such behavior towards others, understands what this all means, but is still incapable of deciding whether or not it's a good thing.  
  
Though she's told herself she wouldn't, that she'd hold very still and at least retain some of her dignity in death, as her lost love had, she's flapping around like a fish out of water. Her sunken black eyes dart about, looking for something to cling to, some help. The pain's terrific, magnified so many times by pointless terror, but what the contradictory little coward is really scared of is dying here alone on the grass and disturbed earth her struggles have torn up. But she hurt her most loyal servant and sent her away, and her needy heart can't guess where the second has gone.  
  
But look! Here's Uragiru, coming down the hill leisurely, turquoise bangs bouncing. And at first the Lady Frigid is glad, but then she sees something wrong, something dangerous on Uragiru's face that even the naïve fool can't misinterpret; is her servant smiling, while her strength ebbs away so that she can't even move, is Uragiru grinning thinly, laughing a nervous laugh, even as she stands over the Icejin? She couldn't be -- it's unthinkable -- but that's what the Lady Frigid is seeing, and were she capable of movement at this point, she wouldn't know what to do about it.  
  
Then the sense of distance broke and I'm back within myself, staring wide eyed up at Uragiru, mind foggy and throat screaming silent, inarticulatable pain. Very still now. My body and limbs refuse to react to my commands, and my arms fall unresponsive from my throat. But I'm still here, seeing and hearing for an endless time; Icejin bodies never allow dying to be an easy thing.  
  
"My, my," she says, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes automatically while she looks down at me. Helpless terror is not appropriate for an Icejin, and blind anger is not befitting me. "The Lady Frigid is finally dying, hmm?" She bit her lower lip, looking over her shoulder and back to me quickly to make sure I haven't moved, and then, all nervousness melting away. "Well, I'm glad." She tossed her head back and smiled at me as though we were having a pleasant conversion. Then her face went into flux again, became angry, eyes fierce. I've never seen her like this before.  
  
"I helped Frost along, you know. You were a fool to turn your back, to trust me with that hypocrite for even a moment. I couldn't stand to hear such preaching and whining on morals and freedom and peace coming from an Icejin, and my planet gone and my family dead at the hands of you people." Frost never whined in his life, and he had nothing to do with the destruction of her planet -- he couldn't have if he's wanted to -- it was Furiza... or maybe Kola. I can't remember. That was at least fifteen years ago. Has she been binding her time that long, pretending to be loyal and satisfied in her station, only to take our trust and turn it against Frost when he was helpless? I want her dead; I want to kill her myself and do it slowly. "But I think you'll have done yourself in within the hour, so I won't dirty my hands with it."  
  
I force one gasp of air into my lungs with everything I have, and something inside tears and rips and bleeds, and doesn't stop bleeding. But I'd gotten the small breath, and I raise my hand, reaching for her throat that seems so far away. She slaps it away. "Don't make a habit of that, now.  
  
"I hate you. Everything I loved is gone and dead. And I know what you're thinking -- your so obvious it's sad -- and it doesn't matter whether it was you or your brother or any other Icejin. You're guilty by association and because you let him. Then you drag us out to this rock to win you and the Inujin an easy death without a thought for me, all that's left of my race. I know you don't care, but the Saiyajin killed Zarbon, the only other, and I hate them too. I'm not strong enough to do anything about Son and the other Saiyajin and the half-breeds, but given enough time, we'll see.  
  
"I'm not stupid like you; I can wait and I can think things out. What I'll do about Aiken, for example. She can't help being Inujin, but she's loyal to you and so I can't have her here. Most likely she'd die on her own, but the way she's hanging on Son already there's a small chance she'd turn her affections to him when your dead. It will be faster this way, and I won't have to bother with her; it's a remarkably cruel thing that you haven't put her out of her misery already, when you knew so clearly you were dying. But then you're very selfish, aren't you?  
  
"As I said, I've thought ahead; I'll simply tell Son you became angry with the Inujin, and so killed her, and shortly afterward succumb to one of your little fits, and thus too died." For a second, her face looks honestly grief stricken, showing me what she'll show Son Goku, then she's vicious again. It's ridiculous, but I think the most remarkable thing about all this, to me, is that she's capable of saying so much at one time when she's always been so quiet. "And he's foolish enough to believe it, too. A man as simple as he is easily manipulated." If she thinks the Super Saiyajin is corruptible she's a greater fool than I. Son Goku's not stupid and he'll see right through her.  
  
But Aiken... I have to keep her safe...  
  
I'm fading...  
  
And so I died. 


	13. Aiken

Aiken  
  
I can't say it very good. It's too bad to say.  
  
Liar liar liar Uragiru! Son found her and my poor Mistress before I did, which is the only little good thing maybe, because Liar-liar would have killed me then if not. But I wanted to die. Uragiru acted so sad so good that everyone believed she was sad; tears in her eyes and hurt in her voice, so that Son believed and I believed that she was unhappy. I thought only about how sad I was, and how best to die, and how very soon I could do it; the surrounding woods looked good to me, a place where I could hide alone and wait for death, and I noticed nothing more than my Mistress's body, cooling and dead and wrong smelling. Liar liar liar bad liar, and no one saw.  
  
I couldn't hear good, so I don't know what was said, only that I think liar liar Uragiru explained to Son Goku that my Mistress was dead of an illness common to Icejin, from which she had long suffered.  
  
I didn't want him to touch my Mistress -- not anyone to touch her -- and I bristled and growled and nearly attacked him and had I done so I couldn't have stopped until I was dead. But though I know him to be terrible, right then he was so harmless and good. And he said not to be sad because it was all very easily fixed, and picking her up so gently, made to lead me back to his home.  
  
Of course it can't be fixed; she's dead, and so I have no reason to be. For an Inujin to live but for her Master or Mistress is unthinkable. For me to even consider having another Mistress is obscene.  
  
"No," I said backing off, and remembering my manners for her credit I force out "No, thank you. I'm just going to..." I trail off, so confused. My brain wants to die and go to sleep, and I can't seem to hold a thought in it. "I'm just going to go somewhere... else and... and die... Yeah, that's what I'm going to do. Thank you. Bye."  
  
Gripping my wrist firmly, so it doesn't hurt but yet so I can't get away, he turns be back toward him and his home. "It's okay," he said again. "Don't worry."  
  
_____________________________  
  
Colors gray; sounds dull; I smell nothing. I want to lay down. Sleep.  
  
I didn't see where he put her. Wanted to but couldn't pay attention, then I forgot what I wanted.  
  
Sit on the couch. Don't know how I got there. Walk? Carried? Don't know.  
  
Son Goku crouched by my limp ear. Held something in front of my eyes and told me to open them and see. Didn't know they were closed. It's too hard to open them. But after he ask me many times I do.  
  
Tinny orange glass ball, cupped in his hands. Stupid no good little thing. I don't want it. Is that supposed to make things better? He's talking, maybe for a long time but I don't follow it. There's something so so important that Juunangou said, maybe, but I can't... I can't find it. "... Other dragon balls..." I caught, just barely.  
  
Twitch of my ear; eyes raise to follow his lips. "Dragon balls?"  
  
"Yeah," he says. "Just like this one. All we have to do is get all seven together and poof! the Dragon comes out and we wish her back."  
  
I'm nodding, nodding nodding fast. "I know; I know! Him -- the little guy -- told me. But I thought he was just being mean. You'd really let me?"  
  
"I don't need them for anything," he says. "And they aren't really mine, anyway. Then something seems to stick him, and he looks at me, brow furrowed. "Little guy?"  
  
"You know... the little dark guy with the bandanna." I feel a little better -- there's hope, at least. But now I'm itchy to get going and find those balls; I want my Mistress back now. Son shakes his head, so I go on. "You know, he stands like this," and I ball my hands at the sides of my armor like in pockets and slouch, just a little bit. "Also, he hates you. A lot."  
  
"Oh! Juunanagou!" he says, and then frowns again. "He's no good, you know. He's acting harmless right now, and it feels like he needs to be here, but he's no good." He pauses, shakes his head as though to clear it. "Ah well, let's go!" He jumps to his feet and runs out of the room, coming back a second later with a leather pouch.  
  
"Son Goku..." I begin, nervous that if I ask he'll think me ungrateful or that I'm planning something bad and won't let me have them. "Can I go by myself? I don't mean insult!" I add quickly. "Only she's my Mistress, you know? I won't wish for anything I shouldn't; just that she isn't dead anymore." I didn't think of Uragiru. If I had, I wouldn't ever have asked. But the liar liar made herself quiet and invisible so that anyone who looks knows she's there, but no one notices.  
  
Son Goku's terrible, but he's good, too. He let me. 


End file.
